Let Fly
by i85
Summary: Akulan, an ordinary Dunmer hunter trying to make a living in Cyrodiil, is reluctantly forced into bizarre and dangerous situations... and finds himself fighting for his life. Original characters, original plot.


This story has nothing (or very little) to do with Oblivion's main quest, faction quests, and other such things. Instead, it is mostly an original plot, with mostly original characters.

Mostly.

Disclaimer: no, Bethesda, I don't own your wonderful creation. I do claim ownership of my original characters, though.

***

The long grass swayed gently in the breeze. I froze and quickly checked where the wind was going with the tried-and-true 'wet finger' technique. To my relief, it wasn't carrying my smell to the deer I was pursuing. Instead, their smell came to me. It didn't help, of course, seeing as my nose isn't sensitive enough to pick it up, but it was still a comfort to know that my carefully considered position would not be compromised by the wind.

My name is Akulan, and I am a hunter. I was born and raised in Morrowind (Mournhold, to be precise) but I moved to Cyrodiil a few years ago, as I was fed up with the rest of my race and their superiority complex, after spending some more time on Vvardenfell. Stupid Dunmer and our stupid prejudices.

I looked to my right and locked eyes with Bardo, who took the hint and moved away from me, disappearing into the grass without a sound. Bardo is an Imperial Legion Forester, and perhaps my best friend. We were supposed to be rivals, of course, as I hunted the very deer the Legion also chased after, but we got along just fine and often went out hunting together, sharing the results afterward. This was another one of those hunts.

We were in the Great Forest, somewhere to the west of the Inn of Ill Omen. Not far from Faregyl Inn, as it happened. If I turned around and squinted my eyes, I could just make it out between the trees, maybe a good bow-shot away.

The deer (four of them; one of them a buck, a magnificent beast, one of the biggest I had ever seen) were oblivious to our presence, chewing on mouthfuls of grass, occasionally lifting a head to look around, blinking lazily in the soothing light of the sun. It was a tranquil sight, really, with a chorus of chattering and singing birds doing their things in the background, and no-one around. Just me, the deer, and Bardo. Speaking of him, at that moment I heard a soft, high-pitched whistle: the signal that Bardo was in position. The deer didn't seem to notice, or they didn't care, mistaking it for just another bird.

I raised my bow and nocked an arrow. Not just any arrow, no, not this time. It was an Arrow of Lightning. I aimed at the buck, mouthing a quick prayer to the Nine and the Tribunal – I know that sounds a bit weird, but it's hard to let go of old customs. Neither was it wasn't really necessary; I had confidence in my abilities, and this was such an easy shot it was hard to miss. The only thing that could go wrong was that something (or someone) would disturb the deer and send them scattering away, or that the arrow wouldn't kill the buck and allow it to escape. That's why I was going to use one of my special arrows for this. Chances of the buck surviving this one? Not very high.

With the familiar twang of a string being released, the arrow shot away from my bow and buried itself into the ribcage of the buck. The animal was thrown off its feet by both the velocity of the arrow and the large amounts of electricity coursing through its body. Less than a second later, an arrow came from Bardo's position and slammed into one of the does, which fell behind a bush and was obscured from my sight. The other deer, now alarmed, darted away and disappeared in the forest. No matter; we had the buck, and a doe. That was a good catch. We could always set out to find the other deer later.

Both Bardo and I approached the dead animals. We grinned at each other and exchanged some petty admiration of the other's aim, which is what we generally did after a successful kill, always insisting that he was better than me; no, I was superior... sort of a in-joke, except it isn't funny. Why we did it? No idea. Only the Nine know, and even they might not. After that we inspected the buck. It was in great shape, except of course for the fact that it was dead. And that there was an arrow sticking out of it, with a small patch of charred skin where the arrow had struck. Waste of the hide. Oh well.

We dragged the animals back to the Inn of Ill Omen, which is where we stayed. And of course, I was the one who got to drag the big buck around, and Bardo had an easy day with the lithe doe. It made sense; we had an unspoken arrangement that we dragged our own kills, but today I wish I had shot the doe. Of course, now I got to brag about shooting a buck of this size, which also has its charms.

As we passed Faregyl Inn, I realized I was going to have to heave the corpse uphill to get to our destination, which was south from here, by the Green Road. Grumbling, cursing, and muttering, I wished I knew a Telekinesis spell so I could just let the thing float up there, but I didn't. Magic was never my strongest subject. Bardo, who managed to make up all the way up while I was still struggling halfway eventually decided to lend me a much-appreciated helping hand, and together we got it up on the Road in a few seconds.

"Okay," I said, "screw this." I reached for my dagger and squatted down next to the buck. "I am **not** going to pull this n'wah along any more." Using my dagger, I made short work of the buck's hide, skinning it and cutting out all the good pieces of venison, dumping the rest of the corpse unceremoniously into a bush next to the road. Bardo had decided it was a good thing to do the same, and when we continued down the Green Road with bags full of meat, we were in a much better mood.

"Not a bad day," Bardo said, patting the bag with meat, slung over his shoulder. I nodded in agreement. "The weather was nice... still is. It did take far too long to find those deer, though. We could have done that much faster."

Bardo shrugged. "Maybe. What use would that have been, though? We have made a great catch. Better than we do on most days. Especially you! I don't think many people get to shoot bucks that big."

Now it was my turn to shrug. "Yes, but if I had to choose between more meat – and thus more money, and shooting a buck like that... the money."

"Greedy bastard," Bardo sad jokingly, and I elbowed him in the ribs. He was right, of course, but that doesn't mean I don't get to harass him back.

The Inn was, as usual, devoid of customers. We greeted the publican, Manheim Maulhand, and shared the story of our hunt. He listened, but I could tell he wasn't really interested in the story, as his eyes kept shifting back and forth between us, and our bags with meat. Because of this I just let Bardo do the talking and make a fool out of himself and fetched my bag with venison.

Manheim bought it all for a grand total of 67 septims. Bardo's meat was to be taken to somewhere else. Some place for storage. I could never remember the name.

"I'll go deliver it tomorrow," he decided, so we sat down with Manheim and Minerva (a Redguard and a regular at the Inn; she had been here even longer than I had. We hadn't seen her earlier because she was in her room) for the rest of the evening to drink, eat, and talk. And laugh. Lots of laughing. Manheim was fantastic at it.

"... so I said: 'What, are the deer regrouping?'" Manheim, Bardo and Minerva burst out in renewed laughter, Manheim even going so far that he fell off his seat and crashed onto the floor, which didn't matter to him, as he just continued down there. By now, all three of us were pretty drunk. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve; that joke got me every time. Even if I told it myself, which I did. Bardo's head rested on the table – on his platter, to be precise, which was, fortunately for him, devoid of food at the moment – where he sobbed with glee, while Minerva was making fun of Manheim's current position. "Right, I'm going for–" lots of hiccuping, wheezing and coughing – "for some fresh air," I mumbled, and excused myself from the table.

Night had fallen by now. The stars twinkled in the small patches of sky visible between the leafy canopy of the Great Forest, and shadow reigned below. I sat down on the ground and leaned against the wooden wall of the Inn while trying to clear my head; a task at which I was mostly unsuccessful. I did, however, in one brief moment of lucidity, decide I would go to bed. Easier said than done, but I got there.

A few minutes after I had stripped myself of my gear and crashed onto my bedroll, slowly, but surely, drifting off into sleep, I heard a loud crash downstairs, and the whole Inn seemed to tremble on its foundations. Startled, I shot upright and muttered a confused "whuzz-goin'-on" while rubbing my eyes to clear the sleep. Another crash (it sounded like wood being crushed), more shaking, and the sound of something large making a lot of noise.

I slipped out from underneath the blankets, grabbed my bow and slung my quiver across my back. It sounded like a whole bunch of trolls had been let loose on the ground floor and were destroying the place. I groaned inwardly at the thought of the damage – by the sounds of it, Manheim was going to have his hands up his hair. I opened the door of my room and sneaked out into the corridor of the first floor, where my room was. There, I discovered Bardo, also with his bow at the ready and a rather surprised look on his face. We nodded at each other and approached the stairs, cautiously looking down to see what was going on.

At first, we only saw the ground and part of the desk, but then a chair came sailing into view, only to be smashed against the wall. We retreated our heads instinctively and took a few steps back, now intensely worried. Anything that had the strength to throw a chair like that was really dangerous. We couldn't just let the Inn get destroyed, though.

"We've got to do something," Bardo whispered.

"I was thinking the exact same thing," I whispered back and together we descended the stairs, peeking around the corner. Just at that moment, however, a whole table was send flying through the room, towards our position. Again, we fell back when the table smashed itself to bits – we still hadn't gotten a chance to see what was wrecking the Inn, much to my personal chagrin. Just then, a really loud and really terrifying scream pierced the air – and came close to doing the same to our eardrums.

"What in the name of Talos was that?" Bardo said.

"I think I know what it is..." I replied. It was true – that scream sounded an awful lot like Minerva.

The sounds had stopped. We threw a quick glance around the corner again, but the Inn was deserted. Much of the front wall had been torn away, the door discarded onto the road, most of the interior ruined – tables and chairs had been destroyed and flung all over the place. I was glad that whatever monster was here before was gone, but where was Minerva?

"Oh dear."


End file.
